


(1) The Real Monster Is. . .

by NervousAliceCurious



Category: Original Works
Genre: Gen, Near-Operation, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:04:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27310114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NervousAliceCurious/pseuds/NervousAliceCurious
Summary: Amber visited a house of the undead for a magical ingredient, and nearly ended up losing his heart.





	(1) The Real Monster Is. . .

**Author's Note:**

> Cw: Body parts, needle. Being drugged, drinking. (Un) dead animals. They're fine, but you know....

The black cat was dead.

But it walked along anyway, one eye red, the other a pearl-white.

It had a long gash in its side.

Amber noticed it on a garden wall, and it noticed him right back:

‘Mmrow-’

Angry.

-Well it most likely had reason to be.

Somehow-

‘Mmrow!’

It hissed.

He watched the venom pit the old brick.

‘I wonder if there are more’.

He climbed up the front steps.

The cat followed.

KNOCK-KNOCK!

‘~Who is it-’ a distant voice called-

“A traveler”, he said, “May I come in?”

-Clicking, then the door opened.

“-Hello?”

-A man, glasses askew.

“A visitor?”

“May I come in?” he repeated.

“Of course...Sir. . .?”

“-That’s right…”

-By now it was irritating just how many had got it wrong.

But the Host, didn’t seem to pick up on it.

“Right this way…”

It was brightly-lit and beautiful.

It smelled of rot.

Stitched-up goldfish swam in a bowl…

“What are you looking for?”

“-You could tell?”

Amber took off his sun hat.

“Many come for many things”.

The Host poured tea.

Its odd scent flowed into his nose.

“A cup?”

“No thank you. . .”

He sharply inhaled to keep from betraying disgust.

“Then let’s get down to business”.

He wiped his hands on a stained coat.

“You want something of mine?”

“I do: a bezoar stone”.

“-Are you searching for magic?”

“At some point”, Amber clarified, “But I was in the neighborhood and I thought I’d stop by”.

“I see”.

He stared strangely.

The ‘visitor’ shifted, unused to being treated like a butterfly on a cork board.

“-Do you have one?”

“I might”.

The Host drank a cup, himself.

He slurped.

‘Table manners much?’

But he didn’t say it.

He clunked down the cup.

Wiped his hand across his mouth-

“Right this way-”

Amber trailed behind in silence.

An owl hooted from the rafters.

It’s eyes glowed, and he could just make out bone poking from a wing.

“Hoo!”

“-Don’t mind him”, the Host hand-waved, “That’s just Ralph”.

“And the cat?”

“Gladys likes to walk outside”.

“....And the fish?”

“Prince and Duke are lovely twins, aren’t they?”

‘Someone has a penchant for old names’.

Minus those last two-

“Here we are-”

He twisted the knob, then violently shoved it into its fixture.

Then twisted.

It was bigger on the inside.

Eyeballs, and brains, and other assorted body parts sat in jars-

There was a purple tarp covering something in a corner.

“-It’s been awhile since I’ve had a bezoar stone request-”

He dragged over a rusted ladder, and it screeched.

Amber frowned-

The Host climbed up onto it, and began to mess with the boxes and knick-knacks on the higher shelves.

Curious, the ‘visitor’ stepped close to the drape of fabric.

He squinted.

“-What are you doing?”

He was being watched.

“-What’s that?”

Amber pointed-

“Unfinished work”.

The man climbed back down.

“Don’t touch it”.

Amber raised his arms to show that he hadn’t-

“Here you are”.

It was big and slimy.

“Thank you”.

He looked around for a second-

Then pulled on a pair of gloves he saw lying on a sterilized table.

“You do know I sneezed on those the other day?”

‘I did  _ not  _ need to know’.

He silently cursed the man.

And he took the bezoar.

“Is that all your business here?”

“Yes”.

Amber moved to leave.

“Alright. . .have a nice night”.

“You too”.

‘Is it just me’, Amber wondered, ‘Or has it gotten more...cloying, out here’.

It was as if every flower within a ten-mile radius had chosen just then to be in full-bloom.

His head ached-

He pressed a hand to his forehead.

‘This really is strange-’

He heard the cat roar from far away.

He got to the end of the drive before he fell unconscious.

‘Ow. . .’

He woke up.

It was a hard, metal floor.

‘Huh…?’

He sat up.

He was in a box-

‘Oh honestly…’

He gripped the bars.

“Um...hello-”

“Hm?”

The Host looked up from something he was fiddling with out-of-view.

“Morning”.

“Morning. . .”

He blew strands of silver hair from his view.

“What are you doing?”

“You have a good heartbeat. I think I could use it”.

“-You want to take my heart?”

“I would ask for a transplant, but you know how much red tape there is in the hospital systems-”

“Do you do this to all of your customers?”

“No, not always”.

He shrugged.

“Oftentimes, I just come across dead things who need my help”.

“They need your help?”

‘They seem awfully ominous to me…’

“Well I cracked the Code. Why not be good?”

‘Never heard that one, before…’

-Nevermind the fact he didn’t even know what he wanted his heart for.

“Shouldn’t you ask, first?”

“I can’t-they’re not alive”.

Amber ahemed, while trying to hide his blush.

“-Who’s under the tarp?”

“Hm?”

“-How are you going to rip the heart out of my chest?”

-He was already making plans in his head…

“-Oh don’t worry”.

The man held up a LARGE needle.

‘Holy heck-!!’

“I’ll drug you, first”.

“-Don’t I get a say-”

“Trust me”, he said unironically, “I’ve done this before”.

He reached for the lock.

Amber prepared to kick him in the nose-

-Mercifully, the phone rang.

“-Oops! Let me go get that-”

‘Take forever’.

As soon as he disappeared through a doorway, he went to work fiddling-

“Ow-!”

The metal bit his hand.

“Hmph-”

‘I don’t have time for this-’

He searched for anything on him, anything that could help him pick the lock-

A sewing needle.

‘It might be too small…..’

Only one way to know.

Clicks echoed.

He kept straining his ears for the stairs-

His sternum was aching by now.

-It snapped, and he fumbled open the door.

‘Thank Heavens’.

-he crawled free, wincing as the metal scraped along his shoulder blades.

He wasn’t an 8-footer for nothing.

‘Ow. . .’

Standing up, he tried to get his bearings:

‘Garage-table-keys-look for keys’.

There was no way the exit wouldn’t be-

He moved aside jars of cotton, anti-septic, formaldehyde=

‘He must have it on him’.

Amber backed up.

His legs complained from having been cramped-

‘Any weapons’.

Anywhere.

-He reached for a shovel, and held it over his hand.

He could hear the door rattling-

He brandished it tighter.

‘-Do I kill him or not?’

If he did, he would be safe for certain.

If he did not, he could still escape.

It would make affairs much harder, however-

‘. . . . . . . . . . . . .’

-He may have wanted the stone for dubious purposes at best, but could he really bring himself to take a life?

‘I have to do what I have to do’, he rationalized.

‘Or I won’t escape at all’.

He edged from the field of vision perpendicular to-

His feet were clumsy.

‘Darn it-’

His back knocked into a corner.

‘Ow-’

He could hear the door opening-

“Sorry about that-”

He stopped.

At the top of the stairs.

“-Oh no no no no no!!”

‘If he comes down at this angle I might be able to-’

He went still as a statue as the man passed.

Every nerve was on high alert-

“How did-”

The man knelt down to inspect the lock.

“Picked!?”

‘Should have searched me better’.

He silently stepped onto a stair.

Then another one.

His pulse pounding-

Then another-

The man turned.

“-”

-They stared at each other.

. . .

“-I’d advise you to let me go”, Amber smilingly warned, “I don’t want to have to hurt you”.

“-Hurt me?”

The man came nearer.

He held up the shovel-

“No, no. Wait! Perhaps we could have a civil conversation”.

“-You wish to remove my heart”, was the frank reply, “How can I trust you?”

“. . . . .”

Amber began backing up the stairs.

‘I should check-’

But not there.

He closed the outside door.

His facade nary a crack-

‘Almost too close for comfort’.

He perused his person.

The bezoar still in his pocket-

“........Phew’.

He took a deep breath.

His hands were sweating.

‘One down. . .’

Two more to go.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween!!


End file.
